booksthatburn's Reviews (1.46k)

I read this series originally as a kid, and I loved them when they first came out. Re-reading them as an adult, I appreciate what they meant to me but I don't know if I'll recommend the series as a whole when I finish my re-read.

THE BAD BEGINNING is the start of Count Olaf's attempts to get the fortune of the Baudelaire children, newly the Baudelaire Orphans, with the deaths of their parents as the book begins. When Count Olaf finds out that merely being the childrens' guardian is not enough to obtain their fortune, he attempts to marry Violet in an elaborate ruse.

It's very up front about terrible things happening to the children, so much so that part of the framing is that the narrator (who is also kind of a character in the series) actively attempts to dissuade the reader from continuing at several points. That part of the framing holds up rather well, generally.

One of the villains is a large non-speaking person of indeterminate gender… and that’s pretty much it as the story’s justification for monstrosity. They’re socially marginalized and in the proximity of Count Olaf, therefore they’re creepy. While being in Olaf’s troupe is indeed sufficient grounds to be deemed terrible, this person is described in dehumanizing language by the narrator. Even the hook-handed man has specific dialogue where his actions are monstrous separate from his physical abnormality, but the non-gendered person is treated as though their mere existence is monstrous. Because the various troupe members are referred to by physical descriptions rather than names, there is a repeated emphasis on their strange appearances, which just reinforces the issue. I don't consider them to be queer representation because they don't provide any statement of their identity, it's just that the narration states that the Baudelaire children read their gender as ambiguous, which (in this context where ambiguous equals creepy) is judgmental and meaningless.

I know why this series gripped me as a kid, but I don't recommend this book now because of the way it equates physical difference with bad intentions, lumping in choices (like wearing all-white makeup) with physical characteristics (like baldness or being fat). It could have just been that the children are frightened by adults in the company of an adult who has declared his intentions to do them harm, but the way dehumanizing language is used makes it feel like the narrator shares in moral condemnation of the way certain characters look.

FRIDAY BLACK is a finely constructed collection of stories which range from simply invoking a certain kind of Black and American existence, to ones where the premise is inextricable from the intersection of these identities. 

Some of them have not literally happened but feel like they could if reality got just a little bit worse (or, more awfully, like they’re already here). Others are more speculative, requiring some shift in reality in order to be plausible, or being altogether impossible. In all of them, the relevant social and existential rules are deftly conveyed to build tiny pockets of a different space, in which a story is told that believes its own premise unabashedly and wholeheartedly. 

Three of the stories have a shared underlying reality, but I’m not certain whether the others are meant to be connected with them or not. None of the premises are mutually exclusive, but a few would definitely be oddly paired if they canonically coexist. My favorites are “Zimmer Land” (for the way it shows the precarious position of a marginalized employee in a job which objectifies his existence even as it exploits his identity), Friday Black” (for making shopping feel like a zombie story), and “Through the Flash” (for unflinchingly capturing the potential and inevitability of brutality in a certain kind of time loop).

OUR VIOLENT ENDS is a great finish to an excellent duology, with just the right amount of angst and catharsis. If you read THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS and wanted more of Juliet and Roma treating stabbing and bullets as expressions of fraught teenage love in the midst of a plague-turned-takeover, you should read this ASAP.

The worldbuilding is consistent with the previous book, but it's now slowing down to build as many non-human parts of the setting as THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS was able to. Juliet sometimes still wears flapper dresses, and Roma has a Meaningful Wardrobe Change, but tensions are high and there's just less time for fun. Plenty of time for emotionally fraught pining and hatred, especially coming off of events from the last book. 

I love how much Kathleen shines in this one, she has a much better sense of herself and what place she wants to hold. Alisa, too, gets more of a role and it's very nice to see. Ben and Marsh are fantastic, I'm so happy about their arc here.

This wraps up a bunch of things from THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS. It has a couple of storylines which start here and weren't present before, but since this is part two of a duology that's somewhat limited, as it exists to complete the story. I'm not sure if any major things were both introduced and resolved here, as generally the groundwork was laid previously even if the very specific story thread is mostly contained to this volume. It feels finished, except in as much as the ending intentionally left things open, e.g. living characters are implied to have plans for what they'll do next. The main characters are the same, with a similar ratio of how many chapters each one narrates. Their voices are distinct from each other but consistent with their styles of narration from THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS. This might make some sense if someone picked it up at random and didn't know about the series (especially if they're familiar with ROMEO AND JULIETTE. The relevant backstory is succinctly and precisely conveyed in a way that makes it pretty easy to get up to speed, but certain character motivations and present circumstances will be confusing if someone tries to begin here, in part two of two. It does hit the sweet spot for enough of a reminder for readers who waited a while after reading the first book, at least as far as I'm concerned. 

Well-done with an ending I'm still thinking about, make sure to check out OUR VIOLENT ENDS.

Skythulf is a tough and endearing protagonist. He's that perfect mix of physically confident but emotionally vulnerable which makes the scenes with Brennus, his best friend and liege, really shine. 

The worldbuilding is sketched well, giving just enough detail to feel lush in the small space of a novella. The accompanying illustrations perfectly fit the mood of the text. The sections in the forest during the Wild Hunt are particularly good, as are the flashbacks. Specifically, I love the way that the flashbacks are placed throughout, positioned to so they answer, implicitly or explicitly the trajectory of some emotion which has been expressed in the present. 

The Wild Hunt itself is great, it would be my favorite thing were it not eclipsed by the bond between Skythulf and Brennus. I love the ending, it looks like this is intended to be a series and I hope that happens.

THE ATROCITIES is an engrossing bit of horror which deftly blends unreality and/or mental health issues of several characters to create an atmosphere where a supernatural explanation would almost be better than the alternatives. 

Having finished it, I'm now pretty sure I know what happened (and a specific explanation is offered which I found to be satisfying), but there's just enough wiggle room that I could see a very different explanation being true at the end. I especially love how the canonical explanation is more horrifying (and even more plausible) than some of the previously offered theories, that is well done.

The worldbuilding is fantastic, the aesthetics are detailed and creepy, the cast of characters is small and memorable, and I heartily recommend this to anyone who likes horror with creeping dread.

BLACKFISH CITY feels like post-apocalyptic cyberpunk (or maybe seapunk?), where it's been long enough after the destruction of significant portions of civilization that people have had time to rebuild, but nothing is as it was, and even less is as people would wish it to be. 

The worldbuilding is great, with a backstory for the place itself which is told gradually throughout the narrative. There's an A.I. running everything, actually there are a lot of A.I.'s running things, and things are going about as well as they can when somebody a while ago built a nearly unaccountable system, put it on autopilot, and stopped claiming any active responsibility (i.e. badly). There are housing issues, xenophobia, immigration, and an illness spreading through the city that the authorities will neither acknowledge nor treat, but it's definitely present. Suddenly a woman shows up with an orca and a polar bear and her presence consumes the city in totally believable way. All of this is told through a rotation of protagonists from different circumstances who are seemingly unconnected. It's an interesting idea fleshed out into an excellent setting in which to place the characters. That's where it starts getting strange for me. The mysterious orcamancer woman was fascinating... until we actually meet her. Soq was really cool and made a ton of sense, with clear goals and understandable motivations... until they find out some of their personal history and start having unexplained goals that seemed to come out of nowhere. I'm not upset that the seemingly unconnected narrators turned out to actually be connected, that's a common trope which helps the narrative hang together so that they interact with the plot. That being said, I wasn't expecting them to be quite so connected. It took something that felt big and epic, people coming together as strangers to do something for the city and each other, and turned it into something much more dense and coincidental. Neither is bad, necessarily, but it meant I spent 70%-80% of the time thinking I was reading one kind of story before it suddenly changed to the other. Rather than feeling intimate it suddenly felt petty, at least for me.  

There’s a moment where Soq, the nonbinary character, is implied to be intersex, but it’s conveyed briefly in a scene where a sexual partner is confused by their genitals (not described). Up until that scene they’d been pretty effortlessly and adeptly handled as a nonbinary character (with little explanatory moments but nothing that took me out of a scene), and then this encounter happens. Being intersex, if that’s what was meant, is distinct from being nonbinary. While it’s more than possible for someone to be both, it felt like their evidently intersex anatomy was offered as an explanation for their nonbinary identity in a way that was frustrating to read. They push back against the comment and correct the person, but it didn’t need to be in the story, just a bit of pointless interphobia.